Something Different
by TheSnarkMaster
Summary: When Clarke Griffin has a fallout with Finn Collins, what will she do? How will she handle it? And what steps will she take to pick herself up and carry on? With the help of her friends, especially the Blake siblings, Clarke will learn what it means to not just give but receive and not just love but be loved. Set in modern day AU Bellarke.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey everyone who cares to read the author's notes! I've recently become very passionate about this show (Not so much the book because it was kind of BAD) and decided "what the hell?" This story is definitely going to be Bellarke. Was there any doubt about it? It's also going to be modern day alternate universe set in Seattle. I've also made the fic rated M for a little ways down the road if you catch my drift ;) and mostly because I like to swear a lot in my writing.**

**This chapter doesn't feature a lot of the characters and not a lot of Bellarke scenes AND the chapter might be a little wiggity whack, but I'm trying something new. Also, you will see Jasper, but not Monty. Not yet, at least. I just wasn't able to include his lovely presence in the first chapter.**

**Like any of my other works, I'm always up for constructive criticism and being corrected in my grammar and spelling mistakes. Also, I'm always looking for new ideas when starting a new fic, so if you have any personal ideas YOU think would be awesome to incorporate into the story, feel free to let me know and I can do just that and give you full credit for your ideas. :)**

**The title of the chapter comes from one of my personal favorite songs as of late by Amy Winehouse (RIP). And the title of the story itself comes from a band entitled, "Godsmack." If you want, I highly recommend both songs. With that, enjoy the story and don't forget to review/favorite/follow and all that jazz. Keep it classy, folks. :)**

Chapter 1: Back To Black

Clarke's POV:

I sat on the couch, impatiently tapping my foot on the plush carpet. It's amazing how life can be so materially fulfilling, but there can be some gap, some sliver of unhappiness. Well, we all know what happens with slivers; if it's not treated right away, it becomes lodged into the skin, irritating as hell.

So, yes. Materially, life is fulfilling. I mean, I'm living the life any young woman would die for. Currently, and for the last two years, my boyfriend and I have been living in this ever so lovely apartment. For an apartment, it was surprisingly spacious, allowing us to have an abundance of large furniture and knick knacks totaling up to the amount of one semester of student loans. But isn't that what Seattle is good for? You know, besides Starbucks and pricing their plastic and paper bags.

My foot continued its ceaseless tapping, almost as if it had a mind of its own, before I got up to wander around and ease my seemingly anxious nerves. I turned on some music and was thankful to hear the sultry voice of Amy Winehouse.

_"__He left no time to regret  
Kept his dick wet  
With his same old safe bet  
Me and my head high  
And my tears dry  
Get on without my guy__"_

I walked through the living room, the kitchen, the dining area, the two bedrooms, and finally our bedroom. The bedroom where countless of memories- good and bad- were made. Sitting on the dresser that held the majority of my stingy wardrobe was a picture of Finn and me- smiling, of course. It was the first picture we ever took, on the first night we ever met.

_"__C'mon Octavia! I've been waiting here for two and a half hours and you're JUST NOW calling to tell me that you can't go because of your idiotic brother?" I yelled over the loud noise of cheap club music. _

_"__I'm sorry Clarke! Really, I am, but someone needed to pick up DUMB ASS," she said extra loudly, "from the hospital."_

_"__What'd Bellamy even do? Get a paper cut?" I asked, rhetorically. _

_"__Oh hah hah, Princess," the cause of my present headache said. "Actually I broke my arm."_

_"__And I'm on speaker phone. Glad we could get all that useless information out of the way," I said, wishing the conversation could just be over. Whoever liked to talk on phones anyway? Much less in a cacophonous club. _

_"__Clarke, I'm sorry," Octavia said sincerely. "Maybe we can reschedule for later in the week?"_

_"__Probably not. I just started working for the agency, I don't think I can get time off any time soon…" I said trailing off. There wasn't any use getting mad. "Alright, I should probably go. Can barely hear you as is." _

_"__Well, I'll definitely be in touch tomorrow, have a good night Clarke!" She squeaked into the phone._

_"__Yeah, you too, O. Bellamy, sorry to hear about your arm… hope you feel better soon," I said with little enthusiasm._

_"__Thanks, Princess," he said with a huff. _

_With that, I hung up and decided that clubs weren't my thing- too loud, too tight. However, the night was still young and I wasn't drunk yet, so I decided to hit up a little tavern right along the pier. It was quaint, but comfortable, much like one would expect from a café. And quiet, man was it nice and quiet! _

_I walked through the door with the annoying little bell and was greeted by the friendly bartender's face. "Well, well, well! If it isn't Miss Workaholic herself! Ladies and gents, Clarke Griffin has entered the premises," Jasper Jordan shouted to the other three occupants who paid him no mind. _

_"__Don't worry, Jas. My presence is sure to allure more customers, no doubt," I said with a little hair flip._

_"__Or send them runnin' for the mountains," he mumbled just loud enough for me to purposely hear._

_"__So, Jas, how's about something strong tonight… Rum-coke?" I asked. _

_"__Livin' life on the wild side, I see," he replied while pouring my drink. "Hard day at work? You usually start out with something lighter. What is it you're doing now anyway?" _

_"__It's kind of hard to describe, but along the lines of criminal psychologist for the police department. I get to sit down with the nastiest of fuckers they bring in and get to the root problem as to why they do what they do," I vaguely explained. _

_At that, he gave me a look as if I had two heads and poured more rum into the glass. "Sounds… fun?" He questioned._

_I gave a curt laugh and said, "Yeah, it's definitely something."_

_Time passed by rather slowly that night as Jasper and I talked and people came and went as they pleased. Then, a disheveled looking fellow meandered in. He was wearing a nice button down shirt and jeans. Nothing too fancy, but he still managed to look riveting as I scorned myself for starring. His hair was in disarray, probably from the wind, and his eyes a chocolate brown, almost black color. The handsome stranger sat a few stools down from me and waited patiently for Jasper to come back from the back room, occasionally messing with his hair or rubbing his eyes. Even from my fleeting glances, I could tell the crease in his forehead was out of irritation or worry. _

_Feeling bold from the alcohol working its way through my system, I turned to the stranger and asked, "Everything alright?"_

_Almost as if surprised, he turned to me with wide eyes, giving me the 'deer caught in the headlights' look and then looked around, thinking I was talking to someone else. "Yeah, everything's fine I guess. The past just decided to finally catch up with me 's all."_

_"__Well," I said while walking over to the seat next to him and plopping myself and my glass down. "I don't really know what your past looks like, but maybe- just maybe- we can sit here and drink to the future, eh?" _

_"__Alright, yeah," he said with a jaw dropping smirk. "I can drink to that."_

_"__The name's Clarke, Clarke Griffin," I said whole holding out my hand for him to shake. _

_The stranger engulfed it in his warm hand and replied, "Lovely to meet you, Clarke. I'm Finn Collins."_

_"__You went back to what you knew  
So far removed from all that we went through  
And I tread a troubled track  
My odds are stacked  
I'll go back to black"_

_I smiled at the familiar song. "I love this song, she has such an amazing voice." He continued to smile at me as I further sang the tearful lyrics. __"__We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times. You go back to her. And I go back to..._

_I go back to us."_

From there on out, we drank the night away and along the line, had someone take our picture for us, though I can never remember who.

Man, were those the good days! The innocent looks and touches that soon turned into lingering gazes and sensational touches. Some call it the 'honeymoon stage' in a relationship and I was naïve to think that it would last a lifetime. The happiness, the carefree sex, the honesty.

Slowly, but surely, the romance died down. Month after month, it got worse. He started drinking and partying heavily, but what could I do? He's a grown man; he can do whatever he damn well pleased. However, there was always this voice telling me that there was something more, that it was just hidden in plain sight.

_I love you much  
It's not enough  
You love blow and I love puff  
And life is like a pipe  
And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside_

I tried calling him, but that was no use and Seattle was so big, that he could be just about anywhere. All that was left to do now was worry. As it was, I ended up back on the couch, tapping my foot away. _Two a.m. Finn, where are you? _

As soon as the thought formed in my mind, I heard a thud at the door and the jingling of keys trying to turn the lock. Before he could get any further with his lock endeavors, I whipped the door open with a force I didn't know that I possessed. It scared myself even, but I was pissed.

"What the fuck, Finn? It's two in the goddamned morning! And you have work in a few hours! Why were you out so long?" I couldn't help, but sound like the overbearing girlfriend and the crazy mother all at once.

"God, Clarke. Calm down, won'tcha?" He tried to walk past me, but I grabbed his forearm before he could fully pass me.

I pulled as hard as I could to move him back to face me, but only succeeded in stopping him. At this, he got mad, defensive even. Grabbing my wrist rather painfully, he pushed me up against the wall and got unreasonably close to my face. I could see his eyes darken and his nostrils flare. I could feel his grip tightening, but as painful as it was, I couldn't get over the smell. The smell emitting from him was by the worst. My boyfriend of three years- my love, my life, my everything- had the stench of alcohol on his breath and cheap perfume over his clothing. Even on his white shirt was a poorly hidden lipstick stain.

In the moment of realization, my stature changed from horrifyingly angry to sullen. "No… Finn… Who were you with?" I asked in a small voice, unwilling to let the tears fall just yet. "Who were you with?!" I shouted.

"No one, baby, no one," he slurred on. "Babe, why would I do that to you?"

"I don't know, Finn! Why would you?" I asked, baffled. _Was I really that bad of a person? _

"Baby, just calm down, nothing happened. Alright? Nothing happened." He said, trying to go in for a kiss. I pushed him away, but he just couldn't get it through his thick skull.

"Finn, No! Get away from me!" I yelled as he attacked my mouth with his. It was nothing romantic; it was sloppy and unwanted. It took all my strength, but I managed to push him away. "Get out of my house!" I screamed at him.

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

I went about this somewhat calmly, but he didn't take it the same way. "What?!" He got in my face and yelled.

"Get your shit and. Get. Out," I challenged.

Vehemently, he whispered, "This is my place too, sweet cheeks."

I was reminded of the crime he committed by the ever-so-present odor of cheap perfume and the smell of alcohol wafting from his body. I tried to push him back, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned me against the wall between the door and the side table. _Damn my pride for getting me into this!_

I had never seen him act this way with such anger. A sadistic grin lit up his face and that's when I knew he was going to do something bad. "Baby, don't be like this," he said softly, but there was something hidden in his eyes. Desire? No, desire is too kind a word to be used. Lust, maybe? Just raw lust- not the kind I had witnessed so many times before tonight.

I tried to wriggle free, afraid of what he might do next, but in his drunken stupor, he took it the wrong way entirely and trapped my body further with his, now caressing my cheek with one of his hands. "Look at me, sweetheart," he said.

I didn't look at him, why would I? I was completely disgusted with him at the moment.

"I said, look at me!" He roughly grabbed my chin as I began to silently cry.

"Finn, please stop, you're hurting me," I said, trying to get some leverage over him.

If only he could loosen his hand, just a bit, I could get out of this "embrace." I didn't want to hurt him, but if it meant my safety on the line, I definitely wouldn't hold back. Also, he was hurting me, that part was definitely not a lie.

As if things couldn't get worse, he kissed me again! Raw and hard, not like how it used to be. I resisted, but he just wouldn't stop and I found my opening. Pfft, idiot.

I was able to quickly wriggle my right hand free and punch him in the stomach. He lurched back and bent over to grab his stomach, so I took the opportunity to hit him square in the face as well.

He fell to the floor with a thud and I feared the worst, but was mildly pleased to see the hardwood floor fog up with his breathe. "I gotta go," I said to myself.

I only spared him one last glance before rushing to our room gathering all my belongings and luggage together, glossing over pictures of me and him.

Once everything was packed, I began taking trips from here to the car, but I stopped mid in my tracks and sat down on the stairs on my second trip.

_What do I do now?_

Washington was a decent place to live, so long as you weren't in the heart of Seattle, but where would I go now?

Then it came to me as if it was always there, but just hidden. _Why didn't I think of this before?_ I took out my phone and made a call to Octavia. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Pick up…" I said to myself.

On the fourth ring, she finally answered. "Hello?" She asked in a sleepy tone.

"Hey, it's Clarke," I spoke in a light tone.

"Oh, hey girl," she began. "You know I love you and shit, but this couldn't wait until morning?"

"Heads up, it is morning," I smugly said.

"Dude! Get to the point, I have work at some point in time tomorrow," she groaned.

"My bad," I giggled. "Still got that room up for rent?"

She paused before she spoke. "Yeah…?"

She sounded more confused than I would've thought. "Want a new roommate?" I asked, hopeful.

_If this doesn't work, well, then I don't know what will. _

"Ummm hell yeah!" She said happily, but I could still catch the yawn she gave over the phone. "You remember where it's at?"

"Clear as day," I confirmed, as I packed the last suitcase into my little honda.

"Okie dokie. E4. Ummmm I think the hallway light is on and key's under the mat. When you get in, go through the living room and to the right. Guest room's at the end of the hallway, right door. We'll talk in the morning, alright?"

_Oh god_. "Alright, yeah. Thank you so much, O," I said.

"Anytime chica. Oh, before I forget, Senor grumpy bear may or may not be home, so be quiet coming in, just in case," she yawned out.

"Alright, thanks for the warning," I said. "See ya tomorrow or something."

"Nighty, night," she said while hanging up the phone.

I went back into the apartment just to make sure I didn't forget anything important and sure enough, I didn't. Looking at the drunken idiot laying on the floor, I sighed. "I'm sorry it had to end this way," I mumbled.

Before making my final exit, I moved back into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Captain Morgan rum. _I'm gonna need this after tonight. _

As I walked down the stairs, I reminisced about my past, cursed my present and distressed about my future, even though that all should've been far from my mind. Safety should've been my first priority, but it wasn't.

I got into my car and started her up, twisting the knob on the radio to find something fitting. Perfect timing, I couldn't help but think to myself.

_We only said goodbye with words  
I died a hundred times  
You go back to her  
And I go back to..._

Black, black, black, black, black, black, black,  
I go back to...  
I go back to...

Instincts finally took over my body and within thirty minutes, I was at Octavia's apartment complex. I couldn't help but smile that I had such an amazing friend in my life, someone I could temporarily lean on and vise versa. After a couple of minutes of searching and accidentally going up the wrong set of stairs, I finally arrived at E4.

I unlocked the door as quietly as possible and attempted to open the door slowly and without a noise. Unfortunately, today was just not my day and the door squeaked in the dead silent room. Giving up, I opened the door just so much that I could slip in and locked it behind me.

Overnight bag in one hand and a full bottle of rum in the other I made my way to my room. Walking by the kitchen, a figure jumped out of nowhere with a knife in its hand. Well, it looked like a knife.

On instinct, I dropped the bag to the floor and made to block the knife from slashing out at me, but it got my hand and I let out an awfully girlish scream.

Upon inflicting pain, the person stopped and turned the light on. It took me a moment for my eyes to get adjusted, but when they did, I was pissed. "Look, I know you don't like me, but trying to kill me is kinda extreme for you, don'tcha think?" I challenged.

"Forgive me if I thought you were breaking and entering? Shit," He said, hostility laced in his voice.

"Breaking and entering… please! Why don't you guys try to be a little more creative and at least put the key somewhere less- oh I dunno- cliché?" I asked.

"What are you doing here, Princess?" He asked sternly.

"Obviously, I wanted to spend some quality time with you," I said with a sarcastic tone. I made to pinch his cheek, but stopped when my hand began to sting like no tomorrow. I made a hissing noise at the discomfort and looked at my hand. The cut was deep, but not deep enough for stitches. _Thank God_.

I looked back up at him and was genuinely surprised to see his features soften ever so slightly. "Wanna move, so I can wash this out, Bellamy?" I asked quietly. "By the way, don't call me Princess. Haven't we already been over this?"

He didn't say anything, just stepped aside as I made my into the kitchen. I set the bottle of rum down on the counter and walked over to the sink. Putting my hand under the water, I was surprised to find that it hurt more than I thought it would. Taking deep breaths, I tried to ease the pain by thinking of something else, but everything else I thought of just made something else hurt, entirely. God, please do not let everything sink in now. Just let me get a drink or two in first.

"Whoa, what're you drinking to tonight?" Bellamy said, letting out a low whistle at the bottle of rum. "Petite blonde like yourself gonna finish off this whole bottle?"

"'S mine, just didn't wanna leave it behind," I said quietly.

_Don't give him fuel for the fire. _

"Gimme your hand," he said.

"Why should I? You're kinda the one who put me in this position," I said menacingly. _Good, replace the sadness with anger. That'll make things better!_

"Don't pull that shit with me, just give me your fucking hand," he said in a tone that I just didn't want to disagree with. I wasn't scared, but I sure as hell wasn't in the mood for a fight. "So, why're you here?" He questioned, as he applied the peroxide.

I've been through a lot of painful experiences in life, but hydrogen peroxide was a whole other story on its own. I gripped the counter with my uninjured hand and tried not to make a noise, while thinking of what to say next. "Shit hit the fan pretty hard," I went with.

"Hmph," he said absentmindedly as he wrapped my hand in a bandage.

When he finished, I tried to break from his grasp, but he held on for an unknown reason. I looked at him and saw that his eye brows were furrowed and it looked like he was searching for something.

Or like he already found it. When he pressed down, I couldn't help, but gasp in pain. Looking down at my wrist, I was worried to see bruises, dark and purple, lining my once porcelain skin.

_Finn, that bastard._ I knew he was hurting me, but I didn't think it was that bad. _Hallelujah to high pain tolerance, I guess._

"What happened?" He asked, eyes still locked on my ruined skin.

"Like I said before," I said and yanked my hand away from his gaze. "Shit hit the fan."

He took my rude behavior none too kindly, because who wouldn't? I wouldn't even want to take my shit right now. I was most definitely acting like Bellamy's definition of a princess.

"Whatever, just trying to help," Bellamy said.

Holding up my right, bandaged hand, I said, "Oh, you've been a big help tonight."

"You know what?" He began. "Watch. Me. Care."

"Didn't need your pity, anyway," I said while going to my new room with the bottle of rum and overnight bag.

Looking around, I saw how plain it was and realized that I would need to get a desk and a dresser, but for now, I was only interested in one thing. The bed.

Definitely too much drama for one night. I unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a long sip, regretting dearly that I didn't get a glass or anything.

A few minutes later, I heard a door close nearby and figured that it must've been Bellamy. _I need to talk to him. If we're gonna live together, then it can't be like this._

I drank until a third of the bottle was gone and figured enough was enough when you couldn't feel your face as you flick it over and over again like an idiot.

Drifting off to sleep, I thought about many things and nothing at all. It was a weird thing to think about and chalked it up to being the effects of the overpowering emotion and the overestimation of rum I needed. So, what did I do in the silence of the morning? I sang.

_"__We only said goodbye with words _

_I died a hundred times _

_You go back to her _

_And I go back to black."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hello readers! Glad to see that y'all enjoyed the first installment to this lovely story. While it is nice to see that I have a new review/follow/favorite, I must inform you guys that I will not be able to post frequently to this story. Unlike tonight, updates will most likely be a week or two apart each and I'm still in the planning stages of this fic, so bear with me folks. :) **

**Hopefully, you will enjoy chapter 2! There's definitely a lot of emotion, good and bad. This chapter's title is "In Memory" by Shinedown. Like most other songs I use as titles, I highly recommend this to anyone who has a knack for soft rock. With that, enjoy the chapter and keep it classy mis amigos! :)**

Chapter 2: In Memory

Clarke's POV:

_"__Baby, are you ready to go yet? We haven't got all night, ya know!" Finn yelled from the living room dressed and ready to go for his work benefit-party-who-knows-what. _

_I came out of our bedroom- our bedroom, the phrase came so naturally to mind- and said, "Does it look like I'm ready?" I asked while striking a fancy pose as if I were modeling for a magazine cover. It was definitely something worth posing for. It isn't every day Clarke Griffin puts on a fancy-schamncy dress in replacement of her casual and comfy clothing. Tonight, I traded up for a skin tight red dress that accentuated all the curves my body had to offer. The dress itself dipped down far on my neckline to show more than enough of my cleavage and ran just past my fingertips lengthwise. _

_"__Holy shit… maybe we should just stay in tonight," Finn suggested with a wink and a smirk the devil would be proud of. _

_"__Ohhhh hell no, Finn Collins!" I yelled playfully while crossing my arms over my chest. "I did not wiggle my body into this tiny piece of clothing just so you could rip it off five minutes later."_

_"__I know, I know," he said, replacing his smirk with a soft smile- the same smile I always managed to fall in love with all over again. He walked over to me and lazily wrapped his arms around my hips. "You look beautiful tonight, my love."_

_"__And might I say, you look pretty handsome yourself," I said while kissing him chastely on the lips, my hands cupping his cheek and jaw._

_"__Shall we be on our way, my fair lady?" He questioned as he slipped his hand into mine. _

_"__Indeed we shall, my good sir!"_

_And a mere several hours later..._

_"__Finn, I don't care! You shouldn't have been drinking that much!" I chastised him when we walked through the front door of our living quarters. More along the lines of I was walking while also supporting the majority of Finn's weight. _

_"__What can I say? Monty can make some decent moonshine. How is that my fault?" He asked. Seriously, he had to ask. _

_"__You're right," I began, ready to take the snarky way out of this, basically cocking the hypothetical gun. "It's not your fault that Monty makes good moonshine. It is however your fault that you got SO drunk that you couldn't make your fucking speech. That was the whole reason we went to this thing, Finn! What kind of an example are you setting for your coworkers and your boss if you let that shit happen?" And shot's fired. _

_He just stared at me for a second as if trying unreasonably hard to comprehend my words. "Alright, Princess-"_

_ "__DON'T call me that!" I yelled, infuriated more so than before. Finn of all people knew that I hated being called by that nickname. Just because I was more of a privileged child than others didn't mean I needed to be reminded of it 24/7. Besides, privileged children still had their issues, too. _

_"__Alright, fine. You know what? I don't need to explain myself to you anyway!" He yelled into my face. "I'm sleeping on the couch tonight," he pushed passed me._

_"__Wouldn't have had it any other way," I mumbled to him, slipping off my uncomfortable heels._

_I went into our room and violently stripped off the dress. I didn't want to wear it in the first place anyway! Too angry to care about wiping off the unfathomable coats of makeup or run a comb through my hair or even put pajamas on, I climbed into bed and covered my almost naked body with the plush blankets. Turning over in my subconscious, I was met with cold. With emptiness. With nothing but the lingering smell of alcohol and cheap perfume…_

I sat straight up in bed, eyes wide and breathing erratic. I was so disoriented and almost frightened by the strange surroundings. _This isn't my bed…_

"Damn…" I mentally shivered at the previous night's memories.

The waiting.

The tapping.

The drunken 'kiss.'

The fight.

The call.

The break up.

The rum.

The slashed hand.

The break up.

The memories.

The break up.

All in the amount of one night, not even a full twenty four hours and everything seemed to just crumble through my fingertips, like tiny grains of sand. One by one, each grain fell to the ground, lost from my control. The real question was: Do I pick them back up or just walk away?

Deciding to solve that later, I figured that I was in desperate need of a glass of water and some aspirin. And curtains. _God, the first thing I'm buying for this room is a decent set of curtains._

While the morning sun on the horizon would be nice any other day, I just wasn't having any of it this morning. At least in the darkness, I could hide in the shadows rather than be cornered by the light of day.

Slowly but surely, I meandered into the hallway and further into the kitchen area where Octavia was currently hunched over her iPad, a simple red ribbon holding back her thick brunette locks. I slowly padded over to the cupboard where I knew she kept her cups and reached for one. It wasn't until after I had taken the first sip of salvation that she spoke.

"So, you wanna explain a few things before we talk business?" She asked, looking up from the screen.

"So much for business before pleasure," I rasped out. _What pleasure though? _

"Pleasure? Clarke, no offense, but you look like shit today," she said with a worried expression. "What happened last night?"

Willing myself to not cry through my epic adventure after midnight, I finished the story with, "…and a third bottle of good ole Captain Morgan later, I think I fell asleep."

She looked to me, baffled. Her big dark eyes burrowed into mine as she said, "I don't know who to kill first- the cheater or dumb ass for slashing a knife at you!"

By now, she was standing and pacing the room as if it was the only thing to do in a time like this. Suddenly, she stopped and looked to me, her expression softening. "Clarke, are you okay?"

"Well…" I contemplated telling the truth. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._ "No. But I will be."

"Well, you have a place here," she said coming to hug me.

"Thank you, O," I said sincerely, leaning into the welcomed hug.

A comfortable silence welcomed itself to us for a few minutes before she started back up. "Now that you're gonna be living here, we should probably go put your name on the lease. I usually pay full rent and Bell gets utilities and whatever else. You and I can split the rent in half and we'll call it square," she said with a sort of Octavia-esque finality- the one where it was best to not argue with. Even I knew my limits with my best friend.

"Looks like you got yourself a deal," I smiled to her. It wasn't as fulfilling as I intended, but smiling, if only a little, was a welcomed progress.

I untangled myself from her comfort and was beginning to leave the room before she stopped me. "There's just one last thing…" she said with hesitance.

"And what might that be…?" I asked fearing the worst. Although, how could things get worse?

"I need you to talk to Bellamy."

"What, why would I-"

She held up her hand to silence me and I reluctantly gave in, defiantly crossing my arms over my chest. "This apartment isn't the biggest, it was quaint to begin with and even more so now that there's going to be three people living here. I don't have the time or patience to… mediate yours and my brother's disagreements day after day, so I need you to smooth things over with him. Nothing is ever easier or more peaceful with lug head in the other room, but I love you both and I think that there needs to be some mutual respect met between the two of you."

"Understood," I affirmed. "I'll talk to him later."

"Thanks, roomie," Octavia said with a wicked grin and a friendly wink.

_"__Wow. You are picking a fine moment to start behaving like a typical teenager," _the words of my father rang through my memory. Good-hearted and wise, Jake Griffin always knew what to say and gave the best advice.

My parents always complained that I never got a chance to be kid- that I grew up way too fast for my own good. They even urged me to go to a few high school parties. I had always wanted to get an early start in life in becoming a doctor, but somewhere along the lines, I became more interested in the wonderful world of criminology. Even so, that required me to start life at a young age.

Being as young as I am- twenty six to be exact- I never would've thought that I could have the life I do now had I actually listened to my parents.

_Dad, where are you when I need you?... No, Clarke. We're not doing this today._

I stood outside a beige doorway. It wasn't my door, nor Octavia's. It wasn't the bathroom door. It wasn't the front door. No, it wasn't any of the other many beige doors in this apartment, it was the older Blake's door- Bellamy.

Quite frankly, I can't remember what started all the hateful tension between us. Aurora, the Blake's mother, had always supported my friendship with Octavia, even claiming that I somehow always managed to keep her out of trouble. Well, out of trouble in Aurora's eyes. Octavia is and always will be a free spirit, so who am I to stop her from that?

Maybe that's where Bellamy and I went wrong; he saw Octavia as someone who needed to be protected, to always be watched. He tries so hard to not fail at being a big brother, that it's ultimately him who would be the cause of one of Octavia's famous tantrums. While he was being overprotective, it was always me who went along with her, but not for the reasons he thought. Bellamy thought that I was always the trouble maker, the one who somehow always managed to trick Octavia into doing bad things. Realistically, I was just doing the same thing he was. Granted, I was always the more discrete of us when it came to protecting Octavia.

However, last night- this morning- something changed. The memory of his large warm hands holding my injured hand as if it was the only thing that mattered really made me think. _Clarke, don't be silly! You're just overanalyzing this. But even so, he was just so gentle…_

By now, I was cradling the bruised and battered wrist and looking at the bandage covering the cut on my hand. Even the slightest of touches hurt, but I needed to be reminded that all of this was real. Everything just felt so surreal, so out of place, and so unrealistic all at once. And before I knew it, I was knocking on the hard wood with the uninjured fist.

"Come in," came the muffled voice of my possibly future demise.

Slowly, I opened the door and poked my head in. "Can we talk?" No use in being elusive.

Bellamy looked up from the book he was reading and motioned for me to take a seat at the chair by his desk. His room was simple, not small but not big either. It was obvious that Octavia got the master room. In the corner was his bed with a side table and facing that was a simple desk with an attached bookshelf that cased dozens of worn novels. To the side of the shelf was a closet, which undoubtedly held the majority of his clothes and that was all I could really see at the moment. I took a seat in the chair across from his and waited patiently for words to come out of my mouth. _Guess I should've thought of something to say…_

"You wanted to talk…?" He asked skeptically. "Why aren't there any words coming out of your mouth? Could it be? Could the Princess really have nothing to say?" He feigned surprise.

"Alright, never mind," I said while getting up and walking to the door.

"Wait," the jerk said as I was mid step. "Look I'm sorry, alright. Just…" Turning around, I saw that his usually cold façade he showed me momentarily dropped. _That's odd…_ "What it is you wanted to talk about?" He asked more civilly.

"Well, I talked to Octavia and she said that I could stay here," I began. "I just wanted to know if it was okay with you that I stay here for a while." At this, he looked momentarily confused. "Bellamy, you live here too… Your decision matters."

"Sure… Whatever. There've been worse roommates out there," he said scratching the back of his head. His shirt rode up his waist the slightest bit and I couldn't help myself from looking at the contrast of his tanned-olive skin covering his stomach. Against his white shirt, it stood out immensely. "See something you like, Princess?" He asked with a knowing smirk.

I blushed furiously as my body yearned to reach out and feel every muscle, every last bit of skin covering his body while my brain willed these naughty thoughts away for the time being. Shaking my head slightly to bring myself out of my reverie, I said, "As much as it might hurt your ego, not every girl sees you as a piece of man candy. I was going to ask if you planned on investing in a shirt that fit a little better?" I snarkily replied with a smirk of my own. "'Sides, you're probably not my type."

"Right, and Finn Collins was?" He asked lightly, but even I could see the regret etched into his face after the final syllable left his lips. "…I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize," I held up a hand to silence him. "Obviously, he's not my type either. Not anymore."

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. _

"Good, never liked the prick anyway," Bellamy said trying to lighten the mood a little. I had to give him some credit for trying, so I offered a small, but curt, laugh as a reply and the barest of smiles. "There we go. Obviously, you're doing the best you can."

And just like that, the dam broke and out flowed the unshed tears of so much pain. I let out a choked sob and said, "I'm sorry… It-it's just… my d-dad used to say that t-to me. You know, when bad things happened…"

"Oh jeez, Clarke… I didn't mean… I'm so sorry," he said, getting up and engulfing me in a hug.

All I wanted to do was run away from this embarrassing situation! As if it wasn't bad enough to be reminded of my deceased father, I had just broken up with my boyfriend of nearly three years and was being comforted by the same person who tried to blindly kill me no more than fifteen hours before. _God, could life get any more confusing?_

Yes, it actually could. What I forgot to mention was that I actually enjoyed the arms of Bellamy wrapped around me so protectively. As one of his hands cradled my head, the other rubbed soothing circles into my upper back, like a light massage. It was so relaxing, yet painful memories kept invading the gates of my mind.

One after another, I shed a tear for my father.

I shed a tear for my mother who grieved endlessly for a year.

I shed a tear for the end of my relationship.

I shed a tear out of frustration.

And I shed so many more for reasons unknown. It felt so good to cry- to just let it all out.

At some point in time, I still found myself entangled in Bellamy's embrace, but we had somehow migrated onto his plush bed. Last night, I thought that my bed was comfortable- the most comfortable of anything in this world, most likely due to the alcohol- but this was even better. Maybe it was the bed, maybe it was the company. Either way, it was utterly serene.

Soon enough, my wracking sobs turned to soft cries, which then morphed into nothing more than fading, yet persistent, hiccups. Finally, I could feel my heart rate drop and my breathing begin to even out a little as Bellamy continued to smooth down my tangled hair. _Say something Clarke!_ "You must think I'm crazy." _Not that, good lord child!_

"No more than I thought you were last week," he said smoothly. I let out a little chuckle which was soon followed by a yawn. "Sleep, Princess," Bellamy encouraged.

I stayed awake for another five minutes, but ultimately failed to keep my eyes open any longer after that. Soon after, I couldn't hear the shuffling of him adjusting my body or felt the way he picked me up behind the back and under the knees. I couldn't even see the look of worry and broken-heartedness etched across his near perfect features. However, I do recall a distinct smell- the smell of bittersweet spices and split wood filled my senses and remained in my unconscious brain for the rest of my sleep.

Bellamy POV:

After carrying Clarke to her room, I cleaned up fast and only managed to be two minutes late to my shift at the "100: Bar and Café." I didn't want to have to change out of my shirt, but it was necessary to not show up to work with tear stains and black eye makeup- mascara, according to Octavia- covering the greater area of my torso. But god, the scent of Clarke was driving me crazy. She smelt of strawberries and happiness, even given her saddened stature.

"Oh look who finally decided to show up!" Yelled the familiar voice of the owner and dear friend, Jasper. "Accommodating your harem of Seattle women?"

I rolled my eyes but still had a smile on my face. "Jasper, I do not have a 'harem' of women."

He looked to me, baffled. By that, I mean eyes wide and mouth agape. He was about to say something when Monty Green spoke up from the kitchen. "Um, dude you kinda do."

"See?!" Jasper said and pointed to Monty. "Even Monty agrees! And he's one smart cookie."

"Gee, thanks. Favorite nick name in the WHOLE world," said Monty as he flipped a burger patty into the air.

"What's wrong with being smart?" I asked.

For the past year, I had been working here alongside Jasper and Monty. We all got along pretty well. While I was twenty-nine, Jasper was twenty-six and Monty was only twenty-two. Jasper, as it turned out, had been working here the longest and when the original owner of the bar passed away, it was said that Jasper was to take over management. One increased paycheck and several doable hours later, I actually didn't mind waiting tables and serving drinks. Whereas I was a bartender and waiter and Jasper owner and part time bartender, Monty was currently enrolled in the computer engineering program here in Seattle and part time chef, but ultimately hoping someday to work for Microsoft or design computer programs of his own.

Most nights, "The 100" played as just a little hole in the wall, but usually became a pretty big attraction on Fridays and Saturdays. Thankfully, it was only Tuesday. Then, it occurred to me:

_It was only Tuesday!_

_So, on top of breaking up with her boyfriend, it had to be on a Monday. Damn, that's rough… wait, stop thinking about this Bellamy. What do you care anyway?_

That was the thing though, how could I not care? I mean, I probably played a big role in her terrible day by accidentally trying to kill her. It's not every day someone comes waltzing through the front door at three in the morning, regardless if leaving the key 'hidden' under the doormat was in the picture or not.

The night was pretty quiet, allowing me to think about the present situations with Clarke, with Octavia, with life, with finances, with friends, with… "Spacewalker?" I asked as a disheveled Finn Collins sat down at the bar.

"Blake…" he regarded me. "Can I get a scotch? Biggest glass you got."

"Yeah, sure thing," I replied, before my quenching anger for this vile piece of shit could get the better of me. Putting on a fake, too-cheeky-to-be-considered-Bellamy smile, "Could you hold on for a second, I'll be right out with that scotch."

Going into the back room, I found a medium sized glass._If you're gonna get drunk tonight, then you're gonna pay a hefty amount for it, you no good son of a bitch._

Pouring a "substantial" amount of liquor into the unwashed cup, I looked out to the front of the room and then back at the glass. Without making much noise, I spat into his cup. Mixing it in, I heard the clearing of a throat behind me. _Busted._ "Bellamy, what the actual fuck are you doing?" A pissed off Jasper asked.

It wasn't every day Jasper got angry, but right now, I actually kind of feared what would become of my job. "I can explain…" I began guiltily.

"This should be good," he said while crossing his arms.

Looking to the front room again to make sure he wasn't listening, I said, "That SOB out there hurt Clarke." From there on out, I spent the next minute wrapping up a story that wasn't really mine to tell, but giving Jasper the idea that Finn had hurt Clarke mentally and physically.

"So, let me get this straight based on your story," he started. "You want me to just allow you to disobey employee conduct so you can get back at him by giving him a glass that hasn't been washed, our worst brand and aged scotch and spitting into the glass?"

Taking a deep breath, I nodded vehemently. Jasper uncrossed his hands and held one out for the glass. I begrudgingly gave it to him, but when he took it, he spat into it as well. "Nobody hurts Clarke and gets away with it," he said. Putting on a winning smile, "Hey, Finn! Got your drink right here."

"Hey, thanks man. Means a lot," Finn said.

"Oh hey, Spacewalker," I called to him. "Mind if we have a little… chat after you're done here?"

"Sure thing, Blake," Finn answered skeptically.

"Good, good," I said, returning to my previous task of taking an order to a table in the corner. _Man, was he in for it tonight…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hello all, I am back. For some reason, I got the strangest sense to pick this story back up. I know it has been 2 years since starting this story, but I do have an intent to end it at some point. Just give me time. I went into this story without a solid plan, so hang in there! On the bright side, I do have pretty solid plans for the upcoming chapter. YAY.**

**Couple of points to make for this chapter! First off, I am using the same mechanics that I started with, but my writing style has changed a little bit over the past couple years. Let me know if it feels too dialogue-y or not enough dialogue-y. Secondly, there is more insight into what Clarke and Finn's background is - it is subtly stated, but it is there. Maybe the actuality of their relationship will come out later... who knows, right? Thirdly, this chapter does show Clarke in a very fragile state of mind - this isn't just a breakup with her boyfriend, this is a betrayal in her eyes. She will get better within time though. Fourthly, I do mention a new character for Octavia's love life - can you guess who it is? :D**

**Chapter title is a little more "in the mainstream" and is entitled "Wide Awake" by Katy Perry. As always, please read, review, follow, and favorite this story. My first two chapters got an ENORMOUS response and I am so incredibly thankful for that. Thank you to those who have already thrown in their two cents - you are the people who make me want to write! Without further ado, here is your chapter 3. Let me know what you think!**

_Chapter 3: Wide Awake_

_Clarke POV:_

_"Okay, yes. We understand," Finn said as he looked to me for confirmation. At this, I nodded my head excitedly. _

_This was finally happening! _

_"Perfect! I will just need you both to sign right on the dotted line at the bottom," our new landlord acknowledged to the first line for Finn. "And if you could please sign here, Ms. Griffin," he said to me. _

_My foot tapped against the almond-colored wood, and my left hand shook as I held the pen in my hand. I was both excited to start this new chapter in my life, but the thought was also utterly terrifying. _

_On the one hand, I without a doubt loved Finn Collins – I could see myself being married to him with the white picket fence, and two-point-five kids, and so on. Of course, all of that would come within time; but for now, moving in with each other was a good start for the rest of our lives. It almost worked out too perfectly that Finn's previous lease was up and he was looking for a new venue with which to reside in. While his original apartment was stunning on the inside and out, Finn claimed time and time again that living in the absolute middle of Seattle was pure hell. As I frequently spent the night over at his place, I learned to feel the same thing. Parking was absolute shit, for starters. _

_So, when Finn told me that he wanted to move in together, I jumped at the chance. I had never kissed him so passionately as I did in that moment. All I could think of was pure bliss. _

_Only some of that bliss disappeared when I had to tell my mom that I was moving away. The first time I tried to move away from home, I was going to be living with Octavia, much to my parents' enjoyment and her idiot brother's dismay. However, when dad had passed away, my mom needed me home. Octavia understood. I understood. Everyone understood that it was okay that life needed to be put on hold. As our collective grieving passed, I found that I was okay with living at home. It was close enough to work, I didn't have to pay rent, and the house was definitely big enough for two people to civilly live together. I was comfortable living with my mom, so when I told her that I was moving in with Finn, I got a little teary-eyed and we sat and cried for a few minutes before she announced that she was happy for me. _

_Aside from that distressing moment, this would be the first time I would live with someone. And that someone was surprisingly a man. A man that would share my same bed. Every night. Together. _

_These conflicting thoughts of love and sadness, passions and solemnity, and hellos and goodbyes continued to run through my head as my hand hovered over the paper that bound me for the next year. The pen's ink practically called me to sign the meager sheet of paper, whereas my hand's muscles began cramping around the small pen. It was as if some unknown force was warning me against signing the lease. But why? _

_It could have been seconds or minutes before my senses came back to me, but Finn was grabbing the hand that held the too-formal black ink pen. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Usually when Finn spoke these words to me, they were filled with concern and lovingness. This was different though, as if there was no love to be found. His loving touch on my wrist soon turned to one of pain. _

_It was at that point that the scenery changed and we were seemingly transported to the present in our living room. His tight grip remained and I could once again see the poorly-covered lipstick stain on his collar accompanied by the stench of cheap perfume and alcohol. _

I woke up in a cold sweat, with my still bandaged wrist throbbing ceaselessly. _Seriously, what is up with these god damn nightmares? They're ruining every good memory I ever had with that bastard._ Feeling around my new bed, I realized that I fell asleep more or less face down and on top of my hand. As I tried to get feeling back into the already aching muscles, I stretched the rest of my limbs out across the bed. _Damn, this bed is comfy! But seriously, these awful dreams have got to stop. How could such a lovely memory be ruined by… by…_

Before I had time to mull over my thoughts even further, there was ring of my phone. I blearily looked to the glass device belting out lyrics to "Uptown Funk" and saw that 'WORK' was the current disturbance to my quiet peace. I let out a long "Ughhhhhhhhh," and finally in my best professional voice, "You've reached Clarke Griffin, how may I help you?"

_Hopefully my voice didn't sound like shit._

"Ah, she finally awakens!" the pretend-annoyed voice of Marcus Kane said on the other line. "Thelonious and I have been trying to get ahold of you all morning."

"Right! Sorry sir. My phone was… turned off," I lied lamely. _C'mon Clarke, that wasn't even mildly convincing. Even I wouldn't believe that shit. _

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble," Marcus claimed. "And don't call me sir, you've worked with us long enough to skip formalities."

"Right… Marcus," the name felt unfamiliar on my tongue as I generally preferred 'sir.'

"Anyways, we will need you to head over to the prison to do your semi-annual psych. Evaluations that are due for this week. It looks like you are scheduled to do thirty of them this week and twenty next week. As usual, you are to do it at your earliest convenience, but get these thirty done before the start of the next work week. We still gotta meet our deadlines. Also, avoid going on visitation days," Marcus said in a droll tone.

I had been working this job ever since I started doing my internship conducting clerical work and occasionally assisting in psychological evaluations for those who are in prison for whatever reason. In the admittedly short time that I had been here, moving up the ranks came fairly easy to me as well as earning 'employee of the month' status. I had done many annual and semi-annual psychological evaluations for prisoners and knew the procedure all too well.

" I know, I know," I also said in a rather monotone voice.

"Hey, I have full trust in you that you'll get your work done. It's just the…"

"…Government makes you give me the disclaimer. Yeah, yeah, I know the whole schpeel," I snarked.

"Knock it off smart ass and go to work!" his fake menacing tone said. I could tell he held a smile nonetheless as he hung up the phone.

_Guess I should get out of bed and try to start the day. _

I walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee in which I saw Octavia once again invested on the IPad. She didn't even look up, but said, "Bell drank the last of the coffee yesterday."

I made a 'what the fuck?' face and exclaimed, "But he works at a café?!" I purposefully emphasized the word café. "I know full well that The 100 serves god damn coffee of their own! God, I'm going to kill him…"

"That's not what it looked like last night," Octavia sing-songed without a beat.

I fully knew what was coming. "What are you talking about?" I asked. At the same time, realization did indeed dawn on me that I did not wake up in the bed that I fell asleep in.

"Remember how I said that this place is still relatively small? Yeah. Well, I can see behind hallway corners pretty easily," she paused for dramatic effect. "Corners that have my big brother carrying my best friend, dare I say, bridle style."

She finally looked up from the technology that previously captivated her interests and cocked an eyebrow at me. _Checkmate. _

My face turned an awful crimson red and my mind stuttered to find the right words. As my eyes darted back and forth between anything that wasn't Octavia, she finally piped up and said, "Just tell me when you're ready, Clarke." Her devious smile turned into one of understanding.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. _What did she mean?_

"Oh, you'll know," she winked. "Anyway, the bear is still asleep, so you'll have to kill him later… or thank him."

"Whatever, O! I don't need to thank him for jack shit," I said in an exasperated tone. "What are you even looking up?"

"Don't tell Bell, okay?" she said in her devious Octavia tone.

I was more than a bit skeptical. 'Don't tell Bell' was generally Octavia's way of saying that she was up to something. In our high school days, this meant going to a party with alcohol. When we both hit the big 1-8, it meant getting a tattoo. A few weeks ago, it meant not telling Bellamy about her dating a Marine. And when Bellamy always found out, I would be the one to get blamed. _I should've known O would try to stir something up… it's been a while_.

"Don't give me that look – it's nothing bad!" she argued her point.

"Alright, what is it?" I caved.

"Well as you and Bellamy know, I'm graduating in a few weeks," she began.

Octavia decided against earning college credit during high school, so she didn't get an early start – she was on track for schooling though. She was currently enrolled at the University of Washington and was finishing up her Master's program to become a grade-school teacher. Needless to say, we were all incredibly proud of her decision as she continuously discussed to us that she was going to be the best teacher she could be, considering she didn't want to screw up children's education like our teachers did.

"Please continue," I ushered.

"I've been looking up pricing for caps and gowns…" she led with. "and Honor Chords for 'President's Honors.'"

For a moment, I just stood there with an astonished expression. President's Honors meant that Octavia was being recognized for having a GPA of 3.9 or 4.0. I immediately engulfed her in a hug and said, "Congrats O! I'm so proud of you! This is absolutely amazing news!" I was truly happy for my long-time best friend.

"At the graduation ceremony, they're going to have the people who received a President's Honors all walk together in each program. It'll be announced and everything!" she said in a contented tone. In the past few years, a lot of bar-hopping and road trips had to be cancelled for her (and sometimes me) to study or go the extra mile for extra credit points. I could practically see the tension melt off her skin the moment she said 'graduation.' "Please don't tell Bellamy, I want him to be surprised."

"Oh, believe me. I won't tell. He's going to love this, O!" I said with excitement. Although, I didn't know whether the excitement was for the thought of the surprise or the man who it was for. _Stop it Clarke! _"Well, I'm going to go shower and get ready for the day. Guess I'll hit up the grocery store and get us a few things after work… specifically coffee," I said to politely excuse myself from her.

Octavia turned back to her iPad and I began the small trek the bathroom. Before completely exiting the kitchen, I gave Octavia one more hug from behind, and she leaned back into my embrace. "Bellamy is going to be so proud of you, O. His highness and I don't agree on much, but we both love you to the end of earth and back."

She didn't say it back, but I could see the shy smile plastered on her face from being showered with compliments.

When I turned into the hall, Octavia yelled out, "Get me some Swedish fish!"

"Of course you want candy, little Miss College Graduate," I chuckled along with her and went into my room.

_My room._ The small area was still relatively foreign to me, but it was comfortable. The room could retain more heat opposed to the draftier bedroom that Finn and I shared. Obviously, the room just needed a little more Clarke in it. I smiled at the new adjective that I would hereby refer to.

I was about to change into work-appropriate attire when there was a loud knock on my door. The small apartment was by no means ever totally quiet, but the noise jolted me a little. After my heart was done leaping outside of its chest, I said, "Come in!" I usually never had to even yell at Octavia to come in. Then again, Octavia never knocked…. _Shit._

Without any further instruction, Bellamy opened the door and leaned against the frame. He asked, "Mind if I come in?"

The whole scene in front of me somehow reminded me of the Vampire Diaries whenever the Salvator brothers had to ask permission before entering any home. _I wonder what would happen if I didn't say he come in…._

"Sure, I feel blessed that you even asked," I said with some sass.

He looked around the quaint room and huffed a little. "This is no bed chamber fit for a princess, it's far too small! How will you ever fit your grand amount of evening gowns in here?!" he teased.

I gave him a smug smile. It was so strange to be normal with him, as opposed to our normal fighting. "Unfortunately for your sass, I don't need many clothes to keep me happy. However, I do recommend that you downsize your wardrobe," I smirked while eyeing his Elmo shirt, which had a mustache that said, 'This may tickle.'

"And what if I told you that was my most favorite shirt ever?" he inquired.

"I would call bullshit," I shot back.

"And you would be absolutely right," he smiled. "Are you doing okay?" he asked as his expression automatically sobered.

Now, this question could mean a lot of things:

It could mean about the breakup.

It could mean about yesterday night's tearful breakdown.

It could mean about the healing slash in my hand or the rim of bruises on my wrist.

Or it could be regarding my back after sleeping on this mattress for the past couple of nights.

To at least half of these questions, I did not know of the honest answer. So yes indeed, this was a very loaded question.

"I'm good," I said and turned away from him to go back to looking at outfits to wear for the day. _These are all so terrible. I need Octavia to take me shopping again. _

The tension between us was obvious and thick, as I restlessly rubbed my bandaged hand.

"Hey, hey," Bellamy said while walking to my side. "Don't do that!" he chastised while yanking away the uninjured hand from the bruising. At this, I jumped away from the harsh touched and cowered away from him. My eyes plead that he wouldn't do that again before I realized that I was considering the soft eyes of Bellamy Blake and not the hardened ones of Finn Collins. My breathing was heavy and erratic all at once and I could feel a slight tremble throughout my body.

Was this the beginning stage of a panic attack?

I majored in clinical psychology, so I all but knew the DSM criteria for panic attacks, but dictionary definitions never quite live up to what is actually happening.

"Clarke, I didn't mean to…" he began, but I stopped him.

"Just don't, Bellamy," I seethed. "Please… get out."

I could just barely hear his mouth open to say something, but no words were spoken. The sound of creaking floor boards could be heard as he turned and walked out of the door.

_What is wrong with me? He was only trying to help, Clarke! Why was he helping though? He hasn't been known for helping me in the past, so why now? _My chest started to tighten at the thought of him trying to help me and make me feel better.

At the door, he cleared his throat and I gave him the good grace to at least cock my head in his direction. _So much for being okay._ I could feel tears begin to brim my eyes. "The, uhhhh, white blouse and black boots bring out your eyes."

And then he was gone. Whether he left to go eat some breakfast or go back to bed, I did not care to know.

_That was it?_ My puzzled mind looked at the outfits splayed across the full-size bed as I kept questioning myself. _That was it? Wait, wait, wait. Why should I even care? C'mon Clarke – it hasn't even been a week since breaking up with Finn and you're already all torn up about another guy? And of all people, Octavia's idiot brother?!_

I mulled over my thoughts while changing into my clothes for the day. Bellamy was right about the white blouse.

_I should be more empathetic towards Finn. I should. We were together for such a long time, and he was good for the most part…._

All the good memories I ever had with Finn seemed to be so far and few in between now. Most of what was good in our relationship was also followed by some fight, or some bout of violence from him. Those awful memories became the content of my past couple of nightmares. Based on my reflection of our relationship, we had always had more fights than good moments anyway. I had no problem coming to terms with the fact that our relationship was shit.

However, something new was starting to replace those bittersweet memories. As strange as the sensation was, I couldn't help but feel something for the person with the mop of brown curls who has irritated the shit out of me for the past ever-since-I've-known-him. I could not pinpoint the feeling exactly, but I knew that whatever it was made my stomach flip and my heart skip a beat.

This was also accompanied by a sense of guilt. Did Finn even deserve my empathy or a second chance? Or is that just a part of my life I need to drop completely?

_Later that Day: _

It was about one-o'clock in the afternoon when I was finally able to get out of the apartment and go to work for the day. Like Bellamy suggested, I decided to wear my white see-through blouse with a black tank top underneath it. Dark blue skinny jeans accentuated the curves of my hips, and the black knee high boots made my calves pop, if I do say so myself. As opposed to this morning's heinous almost panic attack and insecurities, I felt good. _Today was going to be a good day… if only I could get my damn coffee. _

First stop, Starbucks. Generally, I preferred homemade coffee but dumbass Bellamy HAD to go and drink the last bit of it. "He works at a fucking café," I muttered to myself, while shaking my head. His weirdly endearing actions brought a smile to my face as I eagerly ordered my sweet relief of caffeine from the barista. As usual, I left a tip for the person who was ringing me up, which brought a smile to her face. "Thank you ma'am!" the young lady said.

Her nametag read 'Maya.' "Of course, have a lovely day Maya!" At this, she looked taken aback, almost as if I was crazy for knowing her name. As it registered that she was wearing a nametag, she just gave a polite and relieved smile.

I walked away from the cashier's line and stood over by the corner where my drink would soon be ready. This was the perfect time to come to Starbucks in Seattle. There weren't too many people here right now. The stereotypical lunch rush was over, but retail workers from here-and-there came rushing in, trying to order their coffee before their breaks were up. As I watched customers come and go, I thought about today's work and how much needed to be accomplished. _Thirty evals total… ten today, ten tomorrow, and ten on Friday. Easy peasy._

Hopefully, some of the men I would be seeing today would have improved psyches so that their regulations could be lessened and could be offered more family visitations. Some of these men could only afford that as they had a life sentence for reasons that were unfathomable. Other prisoners, however, were only in there for a short amount of time and I could see just how much each one of them was reformed in their own way. My semi annual checkups were an important tool to the government for the release of prisoners and getting out early for 'good behavior,' so the next two weeks were going to be very important for some of these people.

However, there were some men in that prison that creeped me out. Being a psychologist means that I have to be able to keep a straight face in the midst of stress or worry – it basically means having a good poker face. None of them had ever acted on their impulses before, and it's not like they really could. _Just don't think about your friends, family… yourself. The only thing that matters is getting through to the prisoners and analyzing their psychological well-beings. Don't think about Mom, Octavia, Bell…_

Needless to say, I had this almost-super power that allowed me to know when someone was staring at me. I couldn't turn it off, although I wish I could – that way, I could maybe, just maybe, live my life a little bit more carefree. It was easy to feel scared at the prisoners' wandering eyes, yet safe knowing they were behind bars.

But, whenever I was out in public and felt this sensation, a great dread would wash over me because there were no steel bars keeping the bad guys away from the good guys in the middle of the street or in Westlake Center. The hair on the back of my neck stood up in alert as I grabbed my coffee and started making my way outside, speedier than any other day. And then someone's voice stopped me. "Cl-Clarke?"

My nervousness was replaced by annoyance at the voice, and my bruised wrist seemed as if it was on fire. I gave a long sigh and braced myself for whatever would come next. "Yes, Finn? How may I help?" It was much easier to transfer my previous sadness into anger as opposed to a neutral and open-minded expression. Sue me.

"C'mon Clarke, don't be like that," he whined. He probably didn't mean for it to sound like so, but he also seemed rather desperate.

At this, I turned around and came face-to-face with half Finn and half black and blue. I was both surprised and worried for his well-being, but also a little satisfied that he got a taste of his own medicine. "What happened to you?" I asked, trying to hide what little empathy I had for him.

"Why don't you ask Blake," he deadpanned sarcastically.

"Uhhh, Octavia did this to you?" I knew the spunky brunette had it in her, but I at least thought she would have the consideration for me to watch.

"Oh no, the other one," he said in a frustrated tone like I should already know this.

Ah, so it was the other spunky brunette who did this. _Go Bellamy!_ "Well, I can't really find it in me to feel sorry for you," I shrugged and made to walk out the door.

"Wait, Clarke. I just… I just wanted to say sorry for my behavior the other night," Finn said sincerely. "It was inexcusable – and I completely understand that now.

I stared at him with wide eyes. Finn never apologizes. _Good to know that he finally realizes he messed up. _

"Thank you for saying that," I breathed out.

We both seemed to relax at this. His three-piece clad suit moved along with his stature. "Thank you, Clarke, for giving me a second chance," he said with relief as he made to hug me.

_Second chance!? _I pushed his chest back with my hand. "You think you're getting a second chance?" I asked with angry vehemence. "Finn, you… hurt me. Countless times! How could I ever forgive you for that, much less be with you?"

"I just thought…" he began.

"And not to mention that this would have been way more than a second chance." I chimed in. "You know what Finn? You thought wrong. I am done being hurt by you, so just. Drop. It. I continued my trek through the rest of Starbucks and made my way to where my car was.

"Bye Finn," were my last words to him.

And as I recalled all the pain and devastation he caused me, even before our breakup, I realized that Finn Collins did not deserve neither my empathy nor a second chance.

Driving to the prison with paperwork in my passenger seat, I didn't mind tuning up the radio to an annoying Katy Perry song and enjoying the freedom I took back for myself. The moment I pulled up to the prison, I stifled all thoughts of victory, family, friends, and a certain Blake sibling that I had to thank. Instead, it was replaced by a professional demeanor while I sported a small smile across my otherwise stoic features.

**Once again everyone, leave me your comments on this chapter. I want your opinions or critiques! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)**


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